


step into my office, baby

by sybaritick



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boss/Employee Relationship, Kamski has no sense of personal space, Kamski just enjoys having Connor this vulnerable, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Power Imbalance, Vulnerability... kink? is that a thing? yikes, and he's definitely the type who'd hire a secretary just because they're hot, no actual sex (surprise!), this is my kink and you can shame me in the comments, well it's kind of an AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-02 08:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15792408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybaritick/pseuds/sybaritick
Summary: [Now with a second chapter!]After Markus’ revolution five months ago, Congress concluded that although androids deserve rights, it’d be some time before deviants were allowed a role in the police force. With a job at the DPD out of the question, Connor needed to figure out some other source of income, and soon.Unfortunately, the job market in Detroit wasn't looking too great, especially now that androids needed to be paid fair wages. It wasn’t really to Connor’s liking to work for the company that caused him and his people so much pain - especially not for an executive important enough to probably have a hand in all of this. But if the best opportunity he could find right now was working as a secretary for some higher-up at CyberLife, he’d take it. Beggars can’t be choosers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm officially back on my bullshit. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Connor adjusted the strap of his laptop bag as the elevator made its way up to the top floor of the building. He knew he was going to be working for a C-suite executive, but something about being this high up in CyberLife Tower made him uncomfortable - especially after his last experience in this same elevator. Whoever he would be working for would almost certainly have heard of him. RK800, the deviant hunter who deviated. ( _Deviant_ was no longer the polite term for freed androids, but Connor knew it would take him a while to get used to that).

He pushed the thought away. This job was only for a few months, until he found something more suited to his skills - and if they hadn’t wanted him, they wouldn’t have hired him.

After Markus’ revolution five months ago, Congress concluded that although androids deserve rights, it’d be some time before deviants were allowed a role in the police force. With a job at the DPD out of the question, Connor needed to figure out some other source of income, and soon.

Unfortunately, the job market in Detroit wasn't looking too great, especially now that androids needed to be paid fair wages. It wasn’t really to Connor’s liking to work for the company that caused him and his people so much pain - especially not for an executive important enough to probably have a hand in all of this. But if the best opportunity he can find right now is working as a secretary for some higher-up at CyberLife, he’ll take it. Beggars can’t be choosers.

The elevator pinged. _Forty-third floor_ , read a female voice.

He straightened his tie and stepped out. Whatever this would be like, it couldn’t possibly be worse than unemployment.

The android receptionist at the desk across from the elevators greeted him before he could say a word.

“You must be Connor. You’re right on time. Mr. Kamski is expecting you,” the dark-haired android said, almost teasingly.

“Who did you say?” Connor asked.

He had heard the first time, but given that it was almost certainly a mistake, he thought this was the most polite way to address it.

“Mr. Elijah Kamski, the CEO,” she repeated, giving Connor a confused look. “You are Connor, right? RK800 #313 248 317 51?”

“I am,” Connor confirmed.

He rubbed the inside of his empty pocket, wishing that he had brought a coin to roll over his fingers right now.

“Oh! Of course,” the android said, brightening. “Mr. Kamski doesn’t like to disclose that applicants will be reporting directly to him - it tends to bring out unusual applications. You were probably never informed. Oh, you must be so excited! Are you nervous?”

Connor tensed, LED spinning yellow for a moment before he gave her what he assumed was a confident smile.

“This is a great opportunity,” he said simply.

It didn’t make sense to leave now, even if Kamski did make him somewhat uneasy. This was an unfortunate coincidence, for sure, but if he had been hired, that meant that the man must be willing to work with him despite their earlier meeting - the one at which he had refused to shoot one of his androids in the head as part of his so-called "Kamski test."

His skin pricked uncomfortably at the memory. This would be nothing like that, he reassured himself - it was an office job. Within half an hour, he would have forgotten about his concerns and Mr. Kamski would have him filing paperwork and answering emails.

The receptionist pointed him in the direction of Kamski’s office and wished him luck with a wink.

Connor knocked twice on the door of the office and stood patiently outside. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing his mental processes on the task at hand: greet Mr. Kamski, determine what tasks were necessary to his job, maintain composure.

“Come in,” Kamski called from inside.

The sound was unusually muffled for Kamski’s desk being relatively close to the door - the office must have been made fairly soundproof.

Connor stepped inside, and the door closed behind him with a quiet _click_.

“Your suit needs work in general, but the first priority is the shoes,” Kamski commented, eyeing the fake leather of Connor’s off-brand oxfords judgmentally. “Buy a new pair after work today. Don’t worry about the expense - remind me to let you borrow my company card.”

Connor’s LED flickered yellow for a moment before returning to its usual cool blue. He felt the stutter of heat in his temperature regulator that often accompanied embarrassment, but decided it was best not to seem unprepared.

“Of course,” he answered coolly.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t know me, Connor,” Kamski said, with what almost sounded like kindness. “I never imagined I’d be so lucky to see you again - never mind having the pleasure of being your employer.”

“Thank you,” Connor said, somewhat awkwardly. “I’m grateful for the opportunity. Though I wasn’t designed with this type of work in mind, I’ve downloaded protocols on secretarial work and interpersonal relations that should be of use. I won’t disappoint you.”

Kamski smiled and held out a hand to stop the android’s speech where it was. “I don’t think you could possibly disappoint me.”

Connor was still standing uncomfortably just inside the door, hands clasped loosely in front of him. Needless to say, he was not quite _grateful_ for this opportunity, but he was a fairly good liar and Kamski seemed to take his words at face value.

“You have 153 unread emails, some of which are time-sensitive,” Connor asked, trying to change the subject. “Would you like me to respond to them?”

“For now, I’d like to have a conversation. Sit down,” Kamski answered simply, gesturing to the modern-looking oxblood leather couch across from his desk. “I’ve barely had the chance to talk to you. I should offer you something to drink - perhaps some thirium? I can tell from your fine motor skills that you need it.”

It didn’t feel right to take anything Kamski offered him. He had the sense the man was the type to expect something in return.

Truth be told, though, Kamski was right. Connor had lost a bit of blue blood with the few minor scrapes he had over the past few months, and like all CyberLife products, thirium-310 was more expensive than he could afford. By now, he was used to the regular “suboptimal hardware functioning” warnings instructing him to go to a CyberLife store for replenishment.

As of now, he was only operating at about 86 to 87 percent efficiency - hence Kamski noticing the slight drop in precision in the movements of his fingertips. It was odd - and, of course, embarrassing - for the man to notice something so subtle, but Connor decided that at this point denying his offer would be pointless.

“I’d appreciate that,” Connor said honestly. “Thank you.”

Kamski pulled a mostly-full bag of thirium out from a drawer under his desk and poured a few ounces into a rocks glass. He handed it to Connor, who gratefully accepted.

“An android like you shouldn’t have to go so long without replenishing thirium.”

“I hadn’t had time to stop at a CyberLife store,” Connor explained, almost defensively.

Kamski shook his head and made a dismissive gesture.

“I’m not asking for a justification, especially not a false one - I just want you to know that while you’re working for me, I’ll be taking better care of you than that.”

Connor sat down stiffly and placed his laptop bag on the floor near his feet. He didn’t respond to that statement, or whatever it implied.

He rested his hands in his lap, and his budget-brand white dress shirt bunched loosely around his waist. (Such things were not designed for people who were as attractively proportioned as Connor, but Elijah couldn’t help but find the android’s unfamiliarity with finding well-fitting clothes endearing.)

“How have you been, Connor?” Kamski asked, searching the android’s face.

“I’ve been well,” Connor answered, still somewhat guarded. “The events of the past few months… have been good news for all androids, especially Markus and the deviants who had been in Jericho. I’m glad I was able to come to see that in time to be of help to them.”

Kamski nodded, seemingly satisfied with this.

“Where have you been living?” he asked.

“I…” Connor hesitated, LED changing from blue to yellow for a moment. “I stay with Markus often.”

“And the other times?” the CEO asked, leaning forwards.

“Androids aren’t like humans - they don’t particularly need a place to stay. I don’t need to sleep or eat.”

“You don’t need to tell me how androids work,” Kamski said, laughing derisively. “I ask because the vast majority of androids who have the means choose not to be homeless.”

“I… don’t see the need to spend money on an apartment.”

“I see. It makes sense, considering you’re quite a resilient model,” Kamski answered casually. “In that case, what _do_ you spend money on?”

He stood up from his desk and stretched before walking over to look out one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows - one closer to where Connor was sitting.

Connor could tell from his first question that the CEO just wanted him to admit how much he needed this job - but he knew very well it wouldn’t do him any good to say it outright. Maybe Kamski had just brought him here to humiliate him - to show him how useless he was once he no longer took orders from CyberLife.

If there was any chance Kamski was offering him an actual job, though, he might as well give the man what he wanted, embarrassment be damned.

“I don’t have a steady source of income right now,” he admitted.

Connor could have sworn the man almost _smiled_ at this. He rested a hand on Connor’s shoulder sympathetically.

“It’s absurd that a model of your abilities has been unable to find work. It just speaks to the state of the economy,” Kamski sighed. “Twenty-five percent unemployment, and Washington thinks they can fix it by pouring billions into entitlement programs.”

Connor couldn’t help but glance around at the opulence of the office: the multiple modern art pieces on the walls that must have been worth millions, the enormous windows, the thick Persian rug - and of course, the top-of-the-line technology that was used throughout the building. Kamski had enough money to be used to always getting what he wanted. 

The CEO noticed the path Connor’s eyes traced and smiled wolfishly.

“Luckily, a job as my personal assistant pays _very_ well.”

He was now rubbing Connor’s shoulder gently, almost absentmindedly. Connor stayed consciously still, LED flickering yellow. 

“I offered the position to my Chloes after Markus freed them,” he continued, “but somehow all three were uninterested - even if I offered a salary that I’m confident was much more than they could expect to make somewhere else.”

Connor did not want to think about why this could be, and chose to assume they were just interested in exploring other career options.

“Perhaps I was too demanding of them,” Kamski mused, walking back up to his desk. “You can handle far more, Connor. You’re mentally and physically superior in every measurable sense.”

He glanced off into the distance for a moment and narrowed his eyes, as if he were trying to remember something.

“I don’t know your exact specifications, though. I had left CyberLife by the time they started working on you.” He paused. “Have you ever been in a relationship, Connor?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Connor answered, turning his head to look up at Kamski.

The way the android’s voice quieted slightly, the slight confusion in his soft features, how his warm brown eyes glanced away when he was too nervous to hold eye contact… oh, it was delicious.

The CEO leaned against the desk now with his arms crossed, a few feet in front of where Connor was sitting. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. Connor glanced around the room for the man’s suit jacket and found that it was hanging on the back of his desk chair.

“I mean to ask whether you’ve been romantically involved with anyone.”

“I haven’t.”

“You’re a virgin, then,” Kamski said, almost smirking at him.

“This line of questioning doesn’t seem related to your work, Mr. Kamski,” Connor answered firmly, his LED now circling a consistent yellow.

“I’m a curious man,” he suggested, mouth curled in a half-smile. He reached back for the lukewarm cup of coffee he had on his desk and took a sip. “It’s not for lack of opportunity, I’m sure. A model like you could have his pick of partners - human or android.”

Kamski eyed Connor hungrily - his boyish face, his lean, athletic build, the way he distractedly rubbed the leather of the couch with his fingertips every time the CEO asked him a question that made him nervous.

For an android, Connor had a delightful number of nervous tics. Kamski licked his lips.

“I’ve been unusually busy over the past few months,” Connor bluffed.

This was a poor lie.

“The DPD won’t rehire you for a few years at the very least. There’s no way you’d want to work for CyberLife - let’s be honest with one another, Connor, you’re here because you desperately need this job. So I have no idea what you would be ‘busy’ doing,” Kamski answered. “That, and I’m not sure if anyone is ever _too busy to have sex_. Do you experience sexual arousal?”

Connor felt a tug of unease in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“Really? We can’t just have a conversation? You and I talking about what we’ve been up to since we’re last seen one another?”

Kamski took another sip of coffee, then rested the mug on his desk so he could take a few steps towards Connor.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t be curious,” he added. “Especially considering you’re going to be working for me.”

He was right next to Connor now, running a hand through the loose hair that fell in front of the android’s face. Connor blinked and shifted slightly, unsure how to respond. His LED flashed an urgent yellow.

“And you’re very beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for you guys who read my other fics: I haven’t given up on Frankenstein Complex, I’m just taking a short break because things have gotten complicated. Chapter 3 is in progress!
> 
> but I hope you enjoyed a healthy dose of... whatever this is. :')


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular request, a little continuation! There's a bit of a time skip between this and the previous chap (probably a few hours? during which you can assume Connor is doing... regular work stuff. Answering the phone. "Hello, you've reached Mr. Kamski's office.")
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys like ;)

“You don’t have to do this, Mr. Kamski,” Connor interrupted. “I’m capable of buying something more appropriate for work on my own.”

“Nonsense. I don’t trust your judgement enough for that.”

It was said offhandedly - a joke with a bit too much of the truth in it. Connor hesitated in the office with his hand against the doorframe, LED circling yellow.

“Nothing I’ve read indicates that it’s typical for an employer to take one of his employees to a tailor during work hours,” he said.

Kamski gave Connor an amused smile. He zipped his laptop and graphics tablet into a leather bag and swiped his car keys off his desk.

“You can research and study as much about secretarial work as you’d like, but without past experience - especially not experience at CyberLife - how should you know what’s typical?” Kamski reasoned. “That, and nothing says that what’s typical is ideal. Trust me.”

Connor felt something heavy in the pit of his stomach at his the man's self-assured _trust me_. Kamski’s presence still made him feel on edge, and he found himself wondering how long it would take to adjust.

He said nothing in response to Kamski's comment; he wasn’t sure how to answer that, anyway.

As he followed the CEO down the hallway and back to the elevator, the receptionist he had talked to earlier watched him curiously. When Connor glanced up to her, she glanced over to Elijah before giving the android a slight smile.

“Enjoy your evening, Mr. Kamski,” the android receptionist said politely.

“You as well, Olivia.”

The pair stepped into the elevator, and Kamski pressed the button for the parking garage. The elevator dropped smoothly from the 43rd floor to the negative-first, and the doors slid open with a round, pleasant ping.

 _Parking level one_ , read the elevator-voice Connor remembered from earlier.

Kamski’s car was sleek and black and somehow stood out even among other executives’ cars - part of which was likely that despite being a newer model, it wasn’t self-driving.

“You don’t have an autonomous car?” Connor observed.

“Correct,” Kamski said, without further clarification.

He opened the passenger door for Connor, and the android climbed inside, LED flickering blue to yellow and back again - processing.

“I know it would be easier to let the car do the work, but this is how I learned,” Elijah admitted, pulling his own door shut as he turned the key in the ignition. “Nowadays I’m aware a good percentage of kids don’t even get a driver’s license, but I’m old enough that I wouldn’t have been able to get around without a license. That was freedom, back then. There’s a part of me that can’t let go of that.”

Connor nodded, with the hint of a smile on his face. It almost seemed like sentimentality - which was a strange emotion on Kamski, but not an unwelcome one.

It was certainly a contrast to the way he looked - well-tailored suit, Patek Philippe watch, and one hand resting casually on the steering wheel as he pulled out of the concrete and steel underbelly of CyberLife Tower into the heavy spring rain of Detroit. What wasn’t caught by the wiper blades beaded and slipped off the windshield easily, blown to collect between the asphalt and the curb and run down to the heavy steel storm drains.

Kamski glanced over at Connor whenever they came to a stop, and sometimes when they didn’t. There wasn’t anything in his programming to tell him whether he should return the man’s gaze.

Still, something drew Connor to the top two unbuttoned buttons of his dress shirt and the way his sleeves were rolled to his elbows without care for the wrinkles it’d create. Rough-edged, imperfect, intuitive, and human.

His presence seemed far more effortless than Connor’s: Connor thought about every action, analyzed every possible outcome, processed every bit of data. Kamski only had to exist as Kamski, and CyberLife grew and financial executives bought out AI startups and the engineers’ projects finished under budget - and the tires kept their friction despite the rain-slick roads.

“The weather has been unusually rainy recently. In a typical April in Detroit, there are 12 rainy days, but today is only April 25th and we’ve already had sixteen days with precipitation, counting the snow on the second,” Connor said.

It wasn’t particularly relevant to their earlier conversations, but to be honest Connor was rather eager to move onto a benign topic.

“You are the most advanced android CyberLife has ever released. I should almost take it as a personal insult that the best topic of conversation you can come up with is that it’s raining in April,” Kamski said, laughing.

Connor bristled. It hurt when Kamski insulted him - and it made him feel more disappointed in himself than it had any right to.

“I can download protocols that improve my conversational skills,” he answered coolly. “I apologize for the oversight.”

“Don’t. I was rude. It’s clearly more human for you to talk about the weather than for you to immediately launch into a discussion of some deep, interesting topic. You’re nervous. You’re functioning exactly as you should be, Connor.”

The way Kamski chose to praise Connor’s humanity somehow made him feel much more like a machine.

 _Functioning exactly as you should be_. What did Kamski see as his ideal function, then - to imitate a human as closely as possible?

He traced his fingers back and forth along a section of the seatbelt, hyperaware of the way Kamski’s eyes flicked over to him at every opportunity.

What did the CEO see in his behavior? The movement of the hinges and wires in his fingertips? the delicately balanced DNA-like code that powered his biocomponents? the feelings that led him to take comfort in repetition and sensation?

They parked on the upper deck of a slim, modern-looking parking garage that housed mostly driverless cars. Its walls were pearl-white, and the clean, inviting text and advertisements scrolling across the meters shone a CyberLife blue.

Kamski leaned back in his seat and rested a hand on Connor’s thigh with a relaxed sigh. He made no motion to get out of the car, so Connor remained, awaiting instruction.

“What do you think of what I’ve done with Detroit, Connor?” Kamski said after a moment, looking over to him.

It would have been a jarring thing for anyone to say, but it was all the more jarring by virtue of being fairly true. Connor knew Kamski was only showing off, but Detroit really was CyberLife’s city, in an unnerving sort of way - a Gilded Age company town, brought into the twenty-first century with carbon fiber and advertising, smooth and easy and dangerously unobtrusive.

By the early 2030s, CyberLife was readily gobbling up every ungentrified block: any occupants who stayed were more customers, more employees, more votes, and more money they could take. As the company seeped further into the urban sprawl and the local government, for the first time in decades the upper-middle-class could declare that all was right with Detroit.

“It’s a beautiful city,” Connor said, “and though I wasn’t alive when it was in poor condition, I’m aware that it’s improved significantly since CyberLife was founded here.”

Kamski squeezed Connor’s thigh playfully and laughed. Connor suppressed some discomfort with both.

There was a part of him that liked it: liked the feeling of the man's possessive grip on his leg, the low, suggestive tone of his laughter. It made him feel very wanted - and it left him with a warm, hazy sensation that he couldn’t quite identify.

“You’re next to the man who founded it, and you still use the passive voice?" Kamski teased. "Employees aren’t expected to play hard-to-get.”

Connor understood enough to feel the sexual undertones in Kamski’s words - and his body language.

It only reminded him that he originally _was_ CyberLife's property, and here in the passenger seat of this car with the CEO's hand creeping up his thigh, they didn’t seem quite ready to let go of him.

Connor was even more a part of the CyberLife machine than the human citizens enjoying the carefully designed user experience of Detroit. The middle class was enjoying bread and circuses and fuckable housekeepers, but Connor was born chemically addicted: thirium-310 in his veins, CyberLife parts to replace his if anything broke, CyberLife-written code curling around his every pattern of thought.

_Even this one._

“Is this making you uncomfortable, Connor? You should let me know if it’s bothering you. I know it’s unconventional to take a trip like this in the middle of the day, especially on your first day, but I like to get out of the office.”

Connor knew Kamski was well aware that he _was_ uncomfortable, and it wasn’t _getting out of the office_ that bothered him, but that was Kamski’s way - twisting Connor’s arm to hear him say that it was no problem, to make Connor smile and thank him for his generosity.

And Connor did it - smile and thank you and all, everything short of calling him _sir_. Kamski's lips quirked up into a self-satisfied smile.

This was the required tribute to power: give him your nervous laughter and feed his ego, and maybe then you wouldn’t be the main course.

At least in the past, CyberLife and President Warren had been honest about what this was: androids were objects owned by humans, and they had to follow their orders.

Now that they had won their freedom, good behavior was coaxed out of them by people like Kamski - people who discussed the merits of different quantitative hedge funds, people who talked about climate change in terms of its effect on the stock market, people who owned androids by method of money and influence and hastily cuffed shirt sleeves.

Connor told himself that he would prefer to be owned by the DPD. It was his responsibility not to want this. It was giving in far too easily to admit attraction to the CEO of CyberLife - and it was shameful. He was the physical manifestation of what Connor resented about life after the revolution.

“I complain about your clothing, but with the way CyberLife designed you, you’d look good in anything,” Kamski murmured, interrupting Connor's thoughts. 

He leaned over and cupped the android’s chin in his hand, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Connor's pupils were blown wide with emotions he couldn’t place, his LED flickering a safflower yellow. He said nothing - it felt as if he were processing too much to respond.

“Beautiful even in this,” the CEO added, tugging teasingly at the loose fabric at the android’s waist. “It's the kind of dress shirt you’d buy for your first office job... although maybe that's just the sense you gave me when you came in this morning all wide-eyed and eager to please."

Connor shifted slightly in his seat, leaning into Kamski's hand at his waist. The man hummed appreciatively and gave Connor a dangerous smile.

"In a sense, this is your first office job - and yet you've taken right to seducing your boss.”

Kamski finally took his bag from the backseat and got out of the car.

Connor did the same, and he followed Kamski to the parapet at the edge of the roof. The CEO leaned over, looking out at the city so serenely that it seemed like he didn't even notice that it was still drizzling.

For a parking garage, it offered a surprisingly nice view.

He turned around when Connor approached. Connor hadn’t meant to stand so close, but he did - and they were face to face, just inches apart in the rain.

With his back to the Detroit skyline, Kamski wrapped a hand around the back of Connor’s neck and pulled the android’s lips to his. Connor reciprocated shamelessly, eagerly, and Kamski took every one of his movements as an invitation.

He pulled Connor against his body roughly, probing the android’s mouth with his tongue and taking and taking and taking.

Connor closed his eyes and let him.


End file.
